Candy Cane Boy
by Space-Weazel
Summary: A journal of Gohan's personal thoughts on his growing relationship with Piccolo while in alternating entries will express Piccolo's thoughts on a similar course. A narrative told in poetry, prose and whatever it takes to convey a sentiment. Implied yaoi.
1. Candy Cane Boy

Candy Cane Boy

* * *

It was their new life together. It had been hell, but they were there and no one was left to judge.

* * *

_Why don't you open me up?_

I wish I could tell you who I am, but I'm pretty sure you already know by this point. It's not like it's some big secret. You shouldn't care either. It's not like you're living my life or experiencing the same things I am or can even grasp the concept of what it's like to be Son Gohan.

Oh well. I suppose I should fill you in and all that fancy stuff. It wouldn't do any good to have you lost at the very beginning. Lets see, lets see, lets see, I'm sorry, give me a moment. It's not like I go around spilling my guts to everyone I meet. People don't make a whole lot of friends that way and I'm not into the sitting in a circle, hello my name is Gohan, I've been blah blah blah for three months now empathize for me gig. I think I got it now.

My name is Son Gohan, I am twenty-six years old and I'm a graduate student at University of Satan City. I'm pursuing a piece of paper that cost more than I care to think about and that says I'm qualified to get paid for doing work. I currently live off campus in an overpriced box and I've been living on my own for a while. I'm partially unemployed but I teach the lab section to a freshman biology class because I sucked up to my professors and all this has almost nothing to do with what I'm getting at.

I like writing poetry. I'm not terribly good at it but:

_I cannot apologize,_

_For all the things I had once thought,  
My trespasses signed and sealed breathlessly._

_Never forgiven, always indulged._

_We are here again to confess,  
Of nights spent, human and non.  
Our secrets written between us,  
Unspoken to others._

_I linger._

_You dive._

Yeah, that's more like what I was going to say. This is our story, mine and his. These are my thoughts. I do warn you that I go on tangents perhaps a little too much, but I'm sure you're smart enough to figure out which parts are real and which are superfluous.

I convinced him to come here halfway into my senior year. He always thought I was insane but he was always so stubborn. Not stubborn like Vegeta, that man has his own category of being a royal (har harr) pain in the ass. No, Piccolo's subtler about it. It's almost a passive-aggressive rejection. "I don't think that is wise, it's not a good time, why do you ask me these things' yeah, yeah, yeah, he wanted to, whatever. He was just scared. He won't admit to it, but he was. He's been in those damn woods so long I was waiting for him to turn into some tree spirit. I jest. But he came to visit me once and the sky didn't fall in. So he did it again. And again. And again. We liked it.

It was innocent. He'd sneak over here at night, we'd talk, and he'd be agitated about being trapped indoors and question my judgment and ask how I could possibly stand being captive in a box in the middle of the city. He got use to it though and would stay longer each time he visited.

There was a problem with him getting a lot of stares from other people. He said he didn't care, but he was lying. When everyone is staring at you, you know about it. I suggested that he try some different clothes. I picked some out for him, just normal stuff. It worked a bit better. He was uncomfortable in the garments but overall it worked.

Then he started staying overnight. The first time he did, he was tired and fell asleep. The second time? Well the second time was entirely different. I'll tell you about it later.

There's this weird thing about going to college. It opens your eyes a little more, or closes them depending on how you are. For me, it did a little of both. I lost my respect for people in general when I first came here. All the girls parading around, acting stupider than they really were (or so I am trying to convince myself) and all the guys who put the higher functioning part of their brains on the back burner to make room for tits and beer. Not that I didn't partake in any of this. I'm not entirely stupid; I just have my priorities in check. Besides, everyone's so fragile. I really needed someone who was a bit more…indestructible.

And that's where Piccolo came in.

I didn't trick him into it if that's what you're thinking.

This is the reason why I started this pseudo-journal. I just wished I could code it to pseudo make sense.

If anyone got that joke, I'll be happy, but I'm not going to hold my breath.

You know you can't kill yourself by holding your breath?

Well now you do.

Anyway, that's the reason why. I want someone else to know how we ended up where we are. I'm not sure what to call us anymore. We're kind of together and kind of not. It's weird and I like it this way. I try not to question things I don't fully understand. I just want to understand them better.

I wonder if us being together is technically bestiality. If it is, I'm pretty sure I'm the beast. I'm not sure if I like that prospect. Lets not go into that anymore. Ew.

I'm also not sure if I like men. I mean I like women. Women are great. Does it really matter what one's preferences are? I mean if I like women but I don't like all women it doesn't make me gay, just the same as liking some men but not all men doesn't. I think about these kinds of things usually after breakfast or when first waking up. It's like the first thoughts on my mind are these quirky, odd, sexually repressed contemplations on my existence. I remember yesterday I was wondering about the actual anatomy of a Namek; the things that normal people never see are my reality.

Nameks do things, biologically, that I haven't quite been able to explain. I've abuse my privileges trying to figure it out. I cannot count the times I've made Pic let me swab his mouth for cells or do random, nitpicky things without explanation. Not that I don't have my reasons, it's that he doesn't want to sit through them. That's fine though. The antennae regulate several functions and are indicatory of health and mood. I always check those when in doubt.

Okay, I'm getting off topic. Or is it that I am on topic but starting to get too in depth? Silly things meet silly ends.

The point is I love Piccolo. It's not a windswept sappy kind of love but it is more than a friendship. At the same time our relationship isn't particularly a romance. It does have romantic elements, but it's not specifically a loving affair even though we both obviously do have some love for one another. I don't completely understand it in a way that I can verbalize my thoughts.

These writings are to make both you and I understand this more. There will be some poetry, some random drabbling, even a story or two, but most of all, this is about me and him and how we have gotten to this point in our lives.


	2. Don't You Know Your Name, Boy?

Candy Cane Boy

* * *

The best and worst things I have done in this life are to indulge his fantasies.

I doubt that the boy realizes what he asks of me. I don't know what this is. He babbles incessantly about things and how they've gotten better when in reality they only became more complicated. But he is happy and that is what matters in the end even if it means I am not happy.

I will be unhappy as long as he is willing to understand why. He's shy about this. I think he knows but is afraid to dwell on it for too long. He knows I don't want to live this way with the city lights and the people. He also knows that I do it for him because I want him to be happy.

The truth is that I am afraid to feel his sadness.

He should have been done with me after he finished high school. I was waiting for his visits to stop but they never did. At first he would visit on weekends then it became a daily thing. Damn persistent kid. I couldn't very well not give in. What would I have said? No, I'm busy? I can't be bothered to spend time with you? I want you to have something that resembles a normal human life and that doesn't involve me?

Chichi was right about some things. She always kept her son's best interest, or what she thought to be his best interests, in mind. I was never a part of that in the beginning and even now, after all those years and battles, my place remains unchanged, according to her. Maybe that is the way things should be.

But that doesn't mean that I don't love Gohan. I love him more than anything or anyone on this entire planet, but it's not the kind of love that he desires from me. I've tried to give him what he wants. Every touch, every look, the words the kisses and embraces, they mean something more to him. It is that something that I am lacking. I don't feel the same way.

The first night he asked me to stay, I adamantly refused. It was ridiculous. I went to his apartment. I wasn't going to go in, but he opened the door. What was I suppose to do? He was so happy, that mile wide smile of his. No one can refuse that. He said he wanted to talk. I don't remember about what, probably his schoolwork or his friends or something of that sort. What I paid more attention to was how he was acting. He always kept in contact with me somehow. A fleeting touch there, a punch in the side there, a tap on my knee, fiddling with my cape, taking my turban off and flipping it around like a bowl—my personal favorite. I asked him why and he would semi-shrug and say some nonsense like he enjoyed doing it. The kid has been around me for practically his entire life and he never did anything on that scale before. He stopped after that and things went back to how they were.

Naturally, I didn't pay attention to my better judgment when it came to him. I came whenever he called for me. I was asking for it. A little part of me needed to be close to him. I would sit with him and let him talk for as long as he wanted. Eventually he would grow bold and move in closer to me or make his touches more pronounced. It bothered me and he knew it but that wouldn't stop him from trying to remove me from my comfort zone.

The bad thing about this was that he was getting very good at it.

And I like it. I like it too much for comfort.

I don't stop him though. He knows exactly when he has reached the line. He'll stay on the edge, consider it momentarily, and cross over. That is something I admire about him.

He knows me well enough to be able to do that. No one else will come within three meters of me unless absolutely necessary while that boy has the nerve to sit on my lap and pull my collar.

I wonder what he sees in me. Whatever it is, he sees it in other people too, but not as strongly. I've watched him go about his business around the university. He is not impervious to the human women. He notices them too and they certainly notice him. That Videl girl too, he has affections for her and strong ones at that. I'm not sure what to make of this. He treats us the same way in some respects, but he is much more gentle and restrained when she is around. With me it is as though the sparring sessions simply carried over to the other elements of our lives. We've broken half the furniture in his room.

Perhaps I worry too much about these things.

It is not my business what he does on his own time. I still have my own allotted time with him and I am thankful for that.

What worries me is that one day he will wake up and realize that I'm not a necessary part of his life.

I both fear and wish for that day to come.

Kami, help me.


End file.
